


Ninety-Nine Problems Plus One

by AngelOfDeath10



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Really don't take back an ex like Sasori, Romance, no beta i fly like icarus, same age au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfDeath10/pseuds/AngelOfDeath10
Summary: Sakura's pity party is too intense for even Ino to cope. The cavalry called in feels more like a firing squad, but maybe best friends have better perspective on what medicine is needed.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Sasori
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Ninety-Nine Problems Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> Established relationship sasosaku in the only manner that made sense to me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, obvs.

Sasori allowed himself to be thrown to the floor because, ultimately, Sakura's guilt over causing him injury was more valuable to him when weighed against the inconvenience of bruises on his back. He had, in fact, been asking for it because of the high possibility of this outcome. Overall, it was rather difficult to hide the self-satisfied smirk that would probably result in a split lip at best. Meanwhile, the sneer on Sakura's face and the spark in her eye betrayed the lie she had been insisting on for the past hour that she was indifferent to him.

"If you're about to break my nose," Sasori said with a carefully neutral smile as he forced his body to go limp under the weight of her. "I would suggest that you at least remove that ring with the raised setting first. Battery comes in various shades of severity, after all."

Her teeth ground almost audibly.

"I know what you're trying to do, but it would have been more helpful if you had just crawled back under your rock." Her breath was sour from Ino's hangover remedy slurry and this close Sasori found it most distasteful, but Sakura's overall proximity still made his heart pound uncomfortably in his chest. "I don't expect you to understand. In fact, I'm rather curious why my soon to be former best friend felt like I'd get anything useful out of the worst mistake I'd ever made."

It was quite nice he was still superlative, to her.

"Are you done with your tantrum? Or are you going to get on with hitting me?" Remind her of her bad behaviors and look sincerely worried, he reminded himself, to induce maximum shame. For a long second he worried because he felt the knee that had been pinning his chest to the floor move a bit too close to his unguarded genitals, but it seemed she was just shifting to remove herself from his body. A deceptively delicate hand with a french manicure shot out into his line of sight to help him up and he clasped it firmly.

Voluntary touching was progress. Brushing off imaginary dirt from the ugly green sweater vest he had purposefully chosen to wear to remind her of when they dated the first time in high school, Sasori watched the woman he still unfortunately loved sigh and sink back onto her couch. Apparently, she had had to attend three different weddings this month, and judging by how she had answered the door in a puffy peach bridesmaids dress she was at the end of her patience for other people's happy endings.

Sliding into the kitchen, he got himself a mug of the water she should have been drinking. She still had the 'I'd agree with you but then we'd both be wrong' mug he had bought her for her birthday the second time they dated in college. It had been in the back of the cupboard, but it was _there_.

"Ino must really think I'm depressed if she thought you would cheer me up." At the arc of his questioning eyebrow, Sakura clarified. "I told her I didn't even want to go to kickboxing. I suppose she thought she'd bring kickboxing to me."

What Ino had actually said in the initial one-line text to him last night was _'she's drowning in self-pity, tag?'_ At first he hadn't been sure who it was from because he had never saved the number, but eventually he pieced it together when a few more texts arrived and his interest was piqued. Yamanaka was probably tired from months of complaints, and after making the surprise acquaintance of her husband Sai at an art gallery a year ago, he had been getting secondhand information on Sakura in tantalizing spoonfulls after years of silence. Everyone had their limits. Sasori always felt about one toke over the line just being around Sakura, jittery and anxious at one moment and boneless and relaxed in the next. It had to be love, right? It was either that or he needed his meds adjusted. When she had answered the door, he felt transported.

"Either way, I think my point about your hygiene was both valid and warranted."

"I'll have you know the only reason I slept in this satin monstrosity was because I was too drunk to reach the zipper."

Sasori spoke more into the mug than at his ex-girlfriend when he replied. "That doesn't explain why you are _still_ in it now."

"I would strip it off to make a point, but you would like that too much."

He would, in fact. "It makes no difference to me how you want to dress."

"You're one to talk. That getup makes me think of how you used to go around telling all the career counselors you wanted to be a mortician so they would stop asking you about your college plans."

That had been one of his better ideas, he thought. Since one more awkward conversation about scholarship paperwork with condescending and disinterested adults who had to pretend to care about him was going to lead to murder, surely. Besides he had only looked like he needed the money.

Sakura was blinking hard at the light streaming through her living room window, and Sasori knew it was only a matter of time before she kicked him out sincerely rather than engage in their practiced antagonistic dance. He had to think of a reason to keep her in his company in order to increase the odds that a followup invitation of some sort would be forthcoming. Something moderately distasteful, but unexpected enough to entice did occur to him.

"We're going to brunch."

"Pardon?" Sakura quickly focused in on him, traces of smudged coral eyeshadow and black eyeliner giving a debauched impression Sasori rather liked.

Casually abandoning the half full mug on a bookshelf, Sasori paced closer and elaborated his points. "You need hydration and likely food as well. History illustrates that while you are overly solicitous of the health of others you have a tendency to neglect yourself. If someone is there to fill a glass you'll drink it, and if someone else makes food for you, you'll eat. And if I'm to be part of this adventure, we need to find someplace that serves alcohol at this time of day."

"Brunch." Sakura repeated mechanically. She wasn't saying no immediately so Sasori knew he'd already won her over with his surprise attack. In one respect it was brilliant, but he was definitely entering into uncharted territory. Her sigh was audible. "You know what? Fine. Let me just go change first."

It was better to say nothing rather than risk her assent. Sasori simply smiled and resisted the urge to follow her into the bedroom.

*  
*  
*

Sasori in a well lit room was not something Sakura had been privy to very often in their relationship. When they were teens she had always seen him under the fluorescent lights of school, or at night when he was tapping on the window of her bedroom despite it being on the second floor. Anything to avoid actually having to converse with her father, she figured, not because Kizashi Haruno disliked the boy but because every time her dad made a bad joke it appeared to drain actual life from her then boyfriend. Then in college when their stars collided again, they would only meet in the evening after classes. She had all but assumed he was still vampire pale and far too thin, especially when she was squinting at him on her doorstep a couple hours ago.

But now, in a sunshine bright room filled with white tablecloths and the smell of syrup she realized she was paler than he was. No doubt it was all those overnight shifts she had been taking on at the hospital. The intervening years since their last breakup had also seen him fill out enough so that he brought to mind words like 'lean' rather than 'skinny,' and it seemed evil deeds would never dim his facial symmetry. All in all, after months of feeling like a romantic pariah, culminating in her dateless attendance at three separate weddings it felt good to have the attention of a handsome man. Even this one.

"You're going to make our server cry." Sakura said as she used her straw to stab at the lemon wedge at the bottom of her water glass.

Sasori shrugged, drinking deep from his screwdriver. Since his alcohol tolerance was subzero she wondered if she'd be carrying him back on her shoulder. At the very least she was glad she had insisted on driving, though now she wondered why he hadn't assumed they were taking separate cars. Something about the whole setup felt fishy, and with anyone other than her ex she would think she was being paranoid.

"He was right though. If you had just bought a breakfast platter you'd get all the same things for less money. Instead of a side of bacon, and a side of eggs, and a side of—"

"It's his job to take my order in the manner in which I request it. Just because he encounters idiots who can't do basic addition doesn't mean I want opinions."

All she could do was laugh. "You're exactly the same." Sasori actually flinched at the comment, more so than when she had taken him to the floor of her townhouse.

"You know better than anyone surgery is about precision. I can help it if it bleeds into other areas of my life." If she didn't know better Sakura would think that Sasori was _making excuses_ for his behavior. If so that would be an extreme departure from the man she had known and explosively fought with on more than one occasion.

With a bolt of realization, Sakura sat up straighter. He wanted her to think better of him. They were out together in public and surrounded by couples and groups of gal pals. The optics of this were not in favor of neutrality, and the way she had been staring at him since he had pulled off that stupid sweater vest had probably continued to give off an impression that…

Well, shit.

Now that the thought of dating him again was lodged in her mind, Sakura found she couldn't shake it. The bad times had been very bad, but had that been because they were both young and self-obsessed? The arguments where he turned to stone and she exploded. The way she asked too much emotionally and he defensively withdrew. How she boiled with jealousy over the brilliant women who tried their hands at turning his head, whom he sometimes encouraged if he felt they were in competition with him and their feelings could be weaponized to give him an advantage. There was no advantage to be gained here, but there he sat, quietly judging everyone around them.

"Still painting?" She took steady breaths to calm herself. Could she willingly walk into this situation again and expect a different outcome?

"Not since college. I moved on to woodworking. Two dimensions was limiting, and I always did do better with a knife in my hand." Was that a joke? Did he tell jokes now?

Never having been very artistic but willing to listen to him wax philosophic, that was one thing that was safe for the two of them to discuss and Sasori seemed almost relieved for the subject change as he pushed his drink away from him. Sakura remembered long nights of watching him complete pieces for his elective art classes while she read through various books and wrote essays or finished problem sets. Art was one thing that always got him passionate, and once he'd finished working on a canvas he'd turn all that creative zeal towards her.

Taking a quick drink of water to cover for her blush, Sakura spoke too loudly and quickly to her ears. "Do you have any pictures?"

"I haven't taken any pictures, no." The disgruntled way he emphasized the first word clued Sakura in.

"Still friends with Deidara? He's still alive, right? I remember he said he wanted to be dead before he turned thirty, but that's so stupid I refuse to believe he did it." She didn't wait for him to answer before her brain nervously switched gears. "I think I might have actually seen some woodwork of yours, now that I think on it. Do your cousins have any of your pieces?"

Sasori sneered. "Only because my degenerate cousin has sticky fingers. He said he wanted something for _inspiration_ but only after he was miles away and it was already in their house." He got preternaturally calm as he focused in on her with his question. "What makes you think it was mine?"

It was a more personal question that she was expecting over breakfast. What made her think she still knew this man on any level let alone intimately enough to identify his art?

"You should give Kankuro a little more credit. He admitted he hadn't made it when he showed me a desk set he was trying to recreate at some party or another a while back. If this whole doctor thing doesn't work out you can always fall back on selling furniture to the stupidly wealthy."

The server came by to refill Sakura's water while pointedly avoiding the existence of the other table denizen, and they fell into silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, surprisingly. Sasori still projected a personality about as friendly as a jagged razor, but he was making an effort for her in his own way. She was pretty sure no one else could get him to step foot in a restaurant serving brunch, even now, and it would probably be a good idea to excuse herself to the bathroom so that she could also secretly take pictures of the anomaly. Temari would never believe her without proof.

After a few years of trying and failing to date various men, should she really encourage this, whatever it was? Maybe the third time would be the charm. She wished she had more certainty rather than buckets of questions.

"Sakura!" The cheerful voice behind her secretly turned her blood into ice. "What a funny coincidence!"

Suddenly, she was all too aware of who had recommended this place to her what felt like a millennia ago. Plastering her best fake smile onto her face, and trying not to let it falter as Sasori got that look in his eyes like a snake ready to strike, Sakura stood to greet her friend.

"Tenten! I thought for sure you'd be on your way to your honeymoon by now…"

"We put it off until next month since it was too hard to get so much time off in a row. You know how it is. We'll both be working every holiday into infinity at this rate." With her sleek brown hair in a high ponytail and her petite frame in a fashionable blush dress Sakura wished she could sink into the ground and pretend like she wasn't in jeans she had pulled off the floor and a t-shirt that was a wee bit too tight and therefore exposing the outline of her bra. Neji, Tenten's glowering shadow in this breakfast venture, made brief and arguably sympathetic eye contact with Sasori.

There was the long pause in which Tenten—a coworker Sakura liked even if their schedules didn't often fully overlap—waited to be introduced to her brunch companion as would be polite in this situation. The pause lapsed too long before Sakura snapped into action with an unnatural laugh.

"Your wedding was beautiful, really. Just great. That dress, wow!" Frankly, Sakura couldn't remember any of the weddings distinctly, as her brain reminded her that drinking all weekend three weekends in a row was not something she could shrug off like in college. There was a soft snort behind her and if it were not for the fact it would be a dead giveaway that the situation was weird she would have turned on Sasori and socked him right in the arm.

"Thanks…" Tenten looked at her like she was insane, and honestly it might not be a bad diagnosis at the moment.

Somehow Neji sensed that it was time to put Sakura out of her misery and nudged his newly minted wife in the direction the server had gone who had been showing them to a table.

"Let's catch up soon!" Tenten called behind her, eyes flickering over to Sasori in that way that told Sakura that she was about to be the subject of some pointed office speculation. Did Tenten recognize Sasori? Had Sakura even mentioned her evil ex to anyone at work? It had been some time since she had complained about Sasori to anyone other than school friends, so possibly not.

Almost collapsing back into her seat, Sakura looked over to where Sasori was taking another sip of his drink. Oh no, he was pissed. She could tell.

"Ashamed of me already?"

"What? No! I mean… you don't even know. It's like a sport on my floor to hear the newest tale of Sakura's failed dates. They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs, but after a while the guys are not the real butt of the joke. You know how nurses get…" And that was the real problem. After so much failure all she could do was start to ask if it was something wrong with her that caused her permanent single status. Every else seemed to be asking the same question, even if they would never dare to her face.

Leaning forward, catching her gaze purposefully, Sasori surveyed every bit of her visible above the rim of the table and proclaimed. "I know what you're thinking, and it isn't that. Don't be stupid."

She wanted to kiss him right there, or maybe slap him, but fortunately the food arrived and the twin urges receded. However, the thoughts once planted continued to bear poisonous fruit for the duration of the meal. After all, she hadn't clarified that this _wasn't_ a date.

*  
*  
*

The slight stumble on her doorstep and the way he dropped his keys were calculated at the right moments so that the long-suffering sigh she let out as she propped him up and practically dragged him back into her townhouse cemented the ruse. Even if he insisted he wasn't inebriated, she wouldn't believe him now. Switching out the alcohol for regular orange juice while she had visited the restroom at brunch had provided him with another opportunity to prolong the time spent in her presence.

"Sit down, don't touch anything, and I'll get you some water."

As soon as she was out of sight, Sasori casually leaned back on her couch and tried to remember his most typical drunk behaviors. He hadn't allowed such a lapse in years, not since The Breakup when he spent an entire week methodically burning every canvas that reminded him of her and drinking whiskey at every meal. Sometimes in place of meals. Deidara of all people had snapped him out of it, mostly because he showed up to steal some art supplies and implied that if Sasori died that his corpse might end up involved in some of the blond idiot's blasphemous attempts at art.

No, his actual drunk behavior would not further his goals today. Who else could he emulate? He hadn't attended enough social functions in the past decade to draw inspiration there. And he'd risk exposure if he tried to act like a family member.

"Drink it. But I swear, as soon as you can walk a straight line, you need to go. I have things to accomplish today." The pint glass brimming with water landed gently on an ugly ceramic coaster within his arm's reach, in opposition to her harsh tone.

"Like what?" His quick words inspired a deep frown.

The way her eyes flickered he knew she was preparing to lie. "Grocery shopping for one. Cleaning. Other adult adjacent things that I'm sure you've somehow forgotten or eschewed."

He would bet, the way she was glancing towards the TV on the wall what she was really planning to do was binge watch garbage television. There was always a tendency towards laziness when she thought people weren't looking, and he was glad he could still read her like this. Sasori didn't care how she wanted to use her free time, even if he didn't find value in the things that she considered to be recreational like going to the gym or whatever hobby of the month she was delving into.

"I know how to cook and clean, but I value my time more than the money it takes to have someone run a vacuum over the hardwood once a week." He cocked his head to one side, remembering to insert the right amount of floppiness. "What would you do with more time?"

At first looking belligerent with arms crossed defensively in front of her, Sakura took the question seriously after a moment's pause. "A couple years ago I would have said a master's program, but I've been there done that and now that my career's on track… see Ino and her kid more I guess. Inojin is pretty cute."

This conversation had been in error, she was descending into self-pity again. The fastest way to correct course was to spark her anger, but he was a little too good at that and Sasori didn't want to get kicked out just yet. If she was expressing sincerity then he had already made inroads to his ultimate goal.

It wasn't hard to pretend to fumble the glass a little, and Sakura made a noise better suited to calling cats as she cursed him under her breath and headed to the kitchen for a towel. It didn't take much time to unbutton his now wet white shirt all the way so that she returned to him half naked. Pitifully, Sasori dabbed at his wet pants while Sakura pretended not to stare at his body. As he suspected, even if she was dating she was not sleeping around if the sight of his bare chest was turning her crimson and awkward. Either that or this conquest was already essentially complete.

"Move over. If you're going to be such a tragedy right now, then you can at least shut up and let me decompress a bit."

Smiling, knowing her gruffness was a defense, he obliged as she flicked on the television and pretended to be interested in some competition cooking show while sliding her glance his way more often than not. Sasori decided to try his luck and see if his hypothesis about her emotional malleability was correct. It took twenty minutes of blinking and slowly slumping before he calmed his breathing and allowed himself to go limp enough so that his supposedly sleeping head met softly with her shoulder.

The tremor of shock her body gave involuntarily vibrated through his cheek, but she didn't push him away. It was a far cry from bygone relaxing nights of her combing her hands through his hair while nattering on about whatever dream or interpersonal conflict was on her mind in that moment, but it wasn't rejection. Sasori felt his body begin to relax from habit—a pavlovian response—and he knew this was one of many things he had been craving since thoughts of her had crept back into his conscious world. Love was seriously the black mold of emotion.

He felt a tentative finger poke his cheek as Sakura sighed. "Beautiful bastard…"

Grim victory sang through him, but Sasori felt his wet clothes finally cause a traitorous shiver. Used to handling people in various states of consciousness, Sakura efficiently had him leaned back against the couch arm with some sort of fuzzy throw blanket thrown over as the television continued to drone. Her proprietary hand on his hip over the blanket was the only thing keeping him in place and Sasori passed the time by planning his next campaign.

By this time next month, he figured she would need space in his closet. Maybe he should steal some of her clothes before he left today and save her the trouble of picking them out.


End file.
